>You come to after blacking out. >What... happened? The last thing you remember is taking a hike up the hill by your house... >It's stiflingly hot in here, wherever "here" is... strange, considering it was about 40 Fahrenheit outside. >Your bleary eyes struggle to focus as you hear heavy footsteps approaching. The door to your pitch-dark room is thrown open. A blurry figure clad in a police uniform marches in, speaking in a gravelly voice. >"Awright, Numbah 1-9-8-2. Yer up." >"Up?" >"Yeah, up. Get that cotton outta yer ears, lad. And get your ass up, I ain't got all day to wait on ya." >Confused, you rub your throbbing head and follow the officer. You notice your hands are cuffed together, but you're otherwise the same as you were when you were hiking. >The officer grumbles and mutters as you walk down a long, black corridor. >You come to a massive set of wooden doors, and he chuckles sinisterly. >"Go on, lad, and be judged. Heh heh heh." >Judged? >Whatever, might as well see what this is all about. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bcDz1sz8B2c] >Your eyes finally begin to focus as you step into a massive courtroom. >Countless people surround you, jeering and shouting profanities. Some even throw things at you. >The entire room is decorated in elegant black wood, with crimson accents courtesy of banners, curtains, and other such accessories. >An absolutely colossal chandelier lights up the room with an ominous red glow. >As you walk down the black carpet, dread sets in. The room seems to grow ever hotter with each step. >A deep feeling of... guilt wells up inside you. >But... but you haven't done anything WRONG? >You eventually make it to the defendant's stand, taking a seat in an uncomfortably tough leather armchair. >A slim man with a literally crooked spine stands behind the plaintiff's stand, grinning and leering with teeth that are far too white. >The crowd continues to screech and bellow until the judge gives off a deafening peal with their gavel. >An intimidatingly stern, contralto female voice rings out from the judge's podium. >"I. WILL. HAVE. ORDER!" >The room becomes even hotter as the red light intensifies. >Every single soul in the room goes dead silent. Even the prosecutor swallows his cocky grin with an audible gulp. >You don't dare make a sound. >It's quiet enough to hear a pin drop. The only sound you can hear is the candles in the chandelier burning. >There's a prolonged silence, then the judge speaks again, her voice icy and dripping with malice. >"Now then. Will the prosecutor please state his full name for the court." >The man smiles nervously, fidgeting. >"C-C'mon, your honor, you know m-" >The heat becomes unbearable as the judge clears her throat dangerously. >"STATE. YOUR. NAME." >"A-ahh, S-Stolas, your honor!" >"Very good. Have a seat." >He obeys without a moment's hesitation, visibly sweating. As your vision clears up, you notice that the man seems to have... coattails made of feathers? >Odd fashion choice. >He adjusts a pair of comically small glasses and shakily downs a glass of water. The judge speaks again, and he tenses up. >"Now then. Will the defendant rise and state his name." >You stand up and take a deep breath. >"A-Anon E. Mous, Junior." >"Splendid. Mr. Mous, I trust you know why you're here." >"Actually, y-your honor, I... I don't." >A blast of hot air wafts across your face as she snorts derisively. >"Typical. Very typical of your kind. Have a seat." >You sit down, and the judge rises. And rises. And rises. >You find it hard to believe the sight before you. >Behind the podium stands the tallest woman you've ever laid eyes on. >She appears to be a kangaroo, but... >Her fur is a sinister deep red. Her eyes, black with piercing green irises. Just looking into them gives off the impression she's staring right into your soul. >Long, silver hair cascades down her back, with her ears jutting up from amidst the grey sea. A small pair of glasses rests precariously at the end of her snout. >A smart, coal-black suit gives her a very severe, stern look, especially when coupled with a matching tie and undershirt. A button fights for dear life on her top as it struggles to contain an absolutely stunning bustline. >However, you find yourself unable to look at her chest for more than a moment. Those eyes draw your attention like magnets. >She clears her throat and takes a bow. A short, stout bailiff speaks up in a raspy voice. >"All rise for the presiding: Judge Lizbeth Werner." >You stand, as does every other person in the room. Once Judge Werner sits, everyone follows suit. >She adjusts her glasses and turns her piercing eyes on you once more. >"Mr. Mous. You claim not to be aware of why it is you have been brought to the court." >"Y-yes, Judge W-worm, your honor-" >It gets so hot, you feel like your skin is on fire. Her eyes practically glow green as she glares. >"My name is NOT 'Worm,' Mr. Mous. You will refer to me as 'your honor' and nothing else. Now continue, before I hold you in contempt of court." >"M-my apologies, your honor, it was a slip of the tongue. M-may I ask what I'm being accused of? I do have a legal right to know..." >She scoffs, a small smirk crossing her face. >"A legal right, eh? The way I see it, you have no rights here, boy." >She pulls out a massive book and slams it onto the podium, flipping through to a certain page. >"Ahem. Section 66, Article 6, Addendum 6: Defendants accused of a Class A or worse offense are stripped of all but the most basic legal rights until proven innocent." >She closes the book with a triumphant smirk. The crowd titters with laughter until she silences them with another rap of the gavel. >"Now then. Since you appear to be in a state of confusion, I suppose I may enlighten you on your situation somewhat." >Judge Werner smiles and leans towards you, a manic glint in her eyes. >"You, my friend, are in quite a lot of trouble. Quite a lot indeed. In fact, one COULD say..." >She snaps her fingers, and the window curtains draw open, revealing the courtroom to be in a dark cavern filled with fire and brimstone. >It's only now that you notice just how... impish the crowd all look. >Judge Werner smiles a little wider and chuckles deeply. >"...you're in a HELL of a lot of trouble." >"...you don't mean..." >"Ohhh yes, I mean what I say. Since you clearly haven't been welcomed yet, allow me to do the honors... Welcome to Hell, Mister Mous." >You feel the blood drain from your face. >"A-am I..." >"Dead? Goodness no. Not yet. Though, the death penalty IS on the table..." >"W-what did I DO?" >"YOU, my friend, committed a Class A offense against this court. As such, the law prevents me from elucidating the details of the offense. I apologize, but it is out of my hands. You may thank the author of the Book of Demon Law for that." >She hoists the book up long enough for you to read the cover... >THE BOOK OF DEMON LAW, by Lizbeth Werner >Shit. >She smiles almost sadistically, her voice taking on a tone to match. >"However, I am permitted to inform you of the veracity of any guesses you may have as to the nature of the crime..." >"Err... well, there was the chicken incident, b-but that was an accident!" >"Mmhm... incorrect." >"Uhhh... d-did I... y-y'know... do THAT too much?" >"Goodness no, that's not it. How rude to even bring that up to a lady! It's not as if I were a succubus, though I know there are some in the peanut gallery today..." >"Did I cheat Satan out of something?" >"Hmhmhm. No, but it is amusing you bring that up. I actually sentenced a gentleman earlier for that very offense..." >"Then what is it? Is it because I'm studying to be a lawyer?" >"No, no. Hm, I certainly hope you're a better student than you are a guesser." >This can't be real. None of this is real, right? >"...this can't be Hell. There's no way." >"Oh? Why is that?" >You muster up all your courage. >"...because you're too heavenly to be a demon." >The crowd gasps and bursts into raucous laughter. A pitch black blush momentarily flushes to Judge Werner's cheeks, only to immediately be smothered by an angry snarl. >She slams her gavel down rapidly. >"ORDER! ORDER!" >Her glasses nearly topple off her nose as the room falls silent once more. She turns to you, baring her teeth in a mirthless smile. Her voice is even colder now, oozing with barely restrained contempt. >"Now then. Shall we add sexual harassment to your file, Mr. Mous?" >"S-sorry. I just tend to blurt things out when I'm nervous." >"Mmhm. Well. I'm afraid I'll still have to add that on to your list of offenses~" >She seems to relish all this a little TOO much. Like she's just toying with you. >It seems pretty obvious that, no matter what, this is a case you can't win. >...so why bother? >...wait, no. NO. >"Hold it, your honor." >She raises an eyebrow. >"Mm?" >"Shouldn't you only be able to judge the souls of the dead? As you yourself stated, I'm not dead." >She blinks a few times, a faint smile on her lips. >"What a clever observation. Unfortunately, you're incorrect. Article 47, Clause 82, Addendum 4 grants any High Demons of Law full jurisdiction over both living and dead souls." >She slams the book closed again, smirking. >"Then why judge me at all? I'm already in Hell." >"Hmhmhm. You ARE, yes, but only because that is where my courtroom is located. If you are deemed innocent, you'll be returned to the mortal world, soul intact." >Her eyes glint green for a moment. >"IF." >...fuck it. This is all a twisted game you can't win. >Why bother playing along? >You sigh and unbutton your shirt all the way. It's sweltering in here. >Judge Werner looks scandalized, staring at your bare chest with wide eyes. >"Mister Mous, how DARE you conduct yourself so... so INDECENTLY in my courtroom?" >"Why should I bother? You're just gonna charge me regardless." >A frown crosses her face. >"Oh no. No no no. That is not how this works. You do not GET to forfeit your defense. You will be subjected to the full process of the law and sentenced properly!" >"I refuse to participate any farther. The defense rests." >Her eye twitches a little. >If you thought it was broiling in here before, now the room is almost impossibly hot. Judge Werner puts on an ice cold glare as she hoists a quill pen high. >"Very well. If you are so ready for your sentencing, who am I to stand in the way of your self-destruction?" >She scribbles something down on a slip of paper, them hands it to the bailiff, who hands it to you. >"Anon E. Mous. For your crimes against this court, you have been sentenced to community service in the Underworld for an indefinite amount of time. You are to be supervised by a High Demon at all times, and will be released from your punishment at their discretion." >She smiles dangerously. >"How fortuitous... I happen to know where we can find a High Demon..." >"Alright, fine. Where is this High Demon?" >Judge Werner strides out from behind her podium and shakes your hand with a smirk. >"You'll be supervised by me, Mister Mous." >"...why did you bother?" >"Hm?" >"Why did you bother setting up this court scenario? You and I both know you were going to declare me guilty no matter what I said or did. You just wanted me as a servant." >She looks legitimately wounded. >"Why, Mister Mous... I do not plan to use you as a servant. I earnestly want you to perform works around the Underworld, under my supervision." >"Yeah, yeah..." >"...if it is any consolation, free room and board will be provided to you. As well as any other expenses that may come up. Food... supplies for your work... anything." >"...then what do you get out of this?" >"Seeing the law upheld is a... visceral thrill that I rather enjoy indulging in. That alone is reward enough. But, that said... it will be nice to see what sort of... good you can bring into the Underworld." >She narrows her eyes, her smile widening. >"BUT. I've got my eyes on you. Don't forget that." >She dismisses the crowd and bailiff, leaving only the two of you in the courtroom. >"...well, where do I start?" >"Mm? My, you're already wanting to start working?" >"Yeah, let's just get it over with." >"I'm afraid that's not possible right now." >"Why not?" >She smirks again, pulling a slip of paper from one of her suit's pockets. >"Article 57, Clause 2, Addendum 1 states that any community service charges can only begin being served the day after trial." >She folds it back up and stows it away, sighing happily. >"Now then. I'll show you to your housing." >"...can you at least uncuff me?" >"Ah, yes. My apologies." >Brandishing a clawed hand, she effortlessly cuts through the metal chain with a single swipe. >"There you are. Now come along." >She strolls out of the courtroom, and you begrudgingly follow. >She's up to something, but there's not a lot you can do besides play along for now. >As you walk, you brainstorm. >"Err, your honor-" >"You may call me Judge Werner." >"Judge Werner, now that my trial is over, can you tell me what I did?" >"I CAN, strictly speaking, but I won't. Perhaps after you've begun your service." >"Why community servive anyway? What do you want from me?" >She turns to you with a bemused look. >"Well, Mister Mous, your alternatives were death or imprisonment. I believe community service is far preferable to those. Besides that, I have uses for your kind..." >"...why me?" >She smiles. >"There are some things, Mister Mous, that only I am privy to; my private thoughts are classified as such." >"Why don't you just throw me in the pit of fire and get it over with?" >"What would that accomplish? The fires of Hell have plenty of souls fueling them. You will be put to much better use this way." >The judge's eyes glint. >"Trust me." >You roll your eyes as you come to a large wooden door. >"Ah, here we are." >She opens the door, and the two of you step inside. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GeNwSlBoZio] >The room you step into appears to be a vast study, with massive bookshelves laden with various titles relating to law. A writing desk, remarkably clean and free of clutter, rests in the midst of the place. >A huge armchair sits by a fireplace burning with a crimson flame; beside it, a smaller, wooden chair. A human skull is mounted on a wooden plaque over the fire. >An old grandfather clock ticks sullenly; a gramophone quietly plays an ominous tune. >Statues of various demons decorate the room as well. >Judge Werner sighs happily. >"Home sweet home..." >"...I thought we were going to see my housing?" >"Indeed. Follow me." >She leads you to a tiny guest bedroom. A mattress sits on the floor, a single blanket thrown over it, along with one pillow. >"There you are. I apologize for the cramped conditions. I had rather thought you were shorter." >Judge Werner nods with a little chuckle. >"Are there any questions?" >"Uhh... a few." >"Hmhm, I expected as such." >"Uh... what about my life? Like, my family, my law school?" >She scoffs and waves a hand dismissively. >"Please. A Doppelganger was already dispatched to fill in for you. Hm, I daresay he may bring up your GPA while you're here, if your rather poor showing in my courtroom is any indication." >She smiles almost as if expecting you to laugh. When you stay silent, she sighs. >"Right. So, any other questions?" >"Yeah... what about food?" >"Ah, hungry, are you? I have ample groceries in ny kitchen. You may take what you want, within reason, of course." >"Oh. Thanks?" >"Mmhm. Now, demon food may be somewhat... unusual for you at first. I assure you it's safe, however." >"Okay then... uh, another question: can I take a look at some of these books?" >Judge Werner narrows her eyes. >"...I would rather not lend out my collection." >"Well, I'll be under your supervision, won't I?" >"...fair point. Very well. But heed me when I say: damage one of my books and I will make certain you regret it." >"Uhhh... o-okay." >She smiles a little. >"May I ask why you want to borrow them?" >"I'd like to study up on demon law, so I don't accidentally break any more." >"Ah, that's a wonderful idea." >"Maybe it can explain what sort of crime is severe enough to warrant me coming to Hell before death..." >"Hmhmhm. Perhaps you could narrow it down. Then again, perhaps not~" >"Err, right. So, is it alright for me to grab a bite to eat?" >"Certainly. Just don't eat me out of house and home, hmhm." >You mumble a thank you and head into the kitchen. It's decorated with the same elegant, vaguely sinister style as the study. >Obsidian countertops... massive, ornate knives...the works. >You carefully open the pantry... you can't identify anything in here. Judge Werner walks up and lays a hand on your shoulder, voice taking on a condescending tone. >"Something wrong?" >"Err... I don't know what any of this is." >"Ah, right. ...here, try this." >She pulls a small bag from the pantry; ominous runes are drawn all over it. She hands it over with a nod. >You cautiously reach in and pull out what appears to be a crimson rock. Judge Werner nods, smirking, and you hesitantly take a bite... >Surprisingly, it's soft, like a biscuit. It has a savory taste... that quickly gives way to a ridiculously spicy flavor. It actually has your eyes watering... >The demon chuckles as your face goes red. >"A tad spicy, eh? Hmhmhm." >She grabs a biscuit from the bag and daintily nibbles at it. The heat doesn't seem to phase her at all. >You desperately look around for a drink; the judge hands over a glass of water with a little smirk. >It helps... but not a lot. >To your shock, she actually looks just a tad sympathetic for a moment. >"...they're, ah, a bit of an acquired taste. Are you alright...?" >"Y-yeah... hoo... I'm good..." >Her sympathy immediately vanishes. >"Ah, good. Ahem. Feel free to peruse my library when you're finished. I believe I'll retire to my chair." >She stretches and yawns, heading off to the fireplace. >You gulp down the rest of the obscenely spicy biscuit, then head into the study. Judge Werner is sitting by the fire, reading a book by the crimson light. >You pass by a mirror as you walk... your reflection looks normal, thankfully. >Let's see what books there are... >Demon Law for Dummies. >Landmark Cases of the Mortal Realm's Court Systems. >Encyclopedia Demonica. >Baking with Brimstone. >The Book of Demon Law, Condensed Edition. >Hm. >That condensed edition is probably a good place to start. You grab the leather-bound book and take a seat in the smaller chair by the fireplace. >The judge glances up at you for a moment, then nods. >"Ah, eager to learn, eh? I must warn you, my system of laws may be somewhat... complicated for your kind. Hmhmhm." >You don't respond. She returns to her book with a peaceful smile. >You open the book up to the prologue. >"For eons, the Underworld was a lawless expanse. Every High Demon imposed their own rules upon those beneath them in rank. This anarchy system was inefficient and self-destructive. In order to impose some semblance of order, the Book of Demon Law was penned. Since then, the laws contained within have been upheld in the court of Hell. The Book of Demon Law is absolute and incontrovertible. Woe betide he who breaks the rules laid out within, be he man or demon." >You flip to a few random pages. >"A Class A offense is considered especially heinous in the court of Hell. Class A offenders forfeit many legal rights granted to other offenders, including the right to know what they are accused of. Rights may be returned at the judge's discretion. Class A offenses include, but are not limited to, murder of a demonic entity, deceiving a demonic entity of High Demon rank or greater, murder of a child (mortal or otherwise), destruction of a copy of the Book of Demon Law... these are but a few of over 150 Class A offenses." >...how very helpful... >"Mortals convicted in the court of Hell may request a retrial if they feel that evidence has arisen proving their innocence. If a retrial finds them guilty once more, a more severe sentence is not possible (unless a more severe offense was discovered)." >Interesting... >"Class A offenders are not provided a defense attorney, but if they recruit one on their own terms, the attorney is permitted to defend them. Defense attorneys MUST be specially licensed to operate in the court of Hell." >Okay... >"Sentences of community service may entail many, MANY varieties of work. What jobs an offender must perform are at the supervisor's discretion. There are no restrictions on what jobs may be assigned with one exception: the job cannot be lethal or life-threatening unless sufficient safety measures are provided." >Reading all this dry legal text eventually starts to take its toll on you. Your eyes start to tire out. >You look up at the judge again; she's engrossed in her reading. >"Err, Judge Werner, what time is it?" >"Mm? Ah, it's 10 PM. ...my, already? How time flies." >"Do you happen to have a watch or any other way I could tell time?" >"Hm. I... no, I'm afraid not. I do not wear a watch, myself. Perhaps you can purchase one in the Underworld tomorrow." >"Tomorrow, yeah... is it possible for me to go take a look around outside?" >"Ohhh, no. No no no no no. That won't do at all. You will have ample time to get oriented later, under my watchful eye." >"Fine. ...hey, uh... you said you could tell me what I did if I guessed?" >"Mmhm." >"Well... there was this party back in 2015, and I kinda... burned a cursed doll with a molotov cocktail?" >The judge snorts and chuckles a little. >"No, no... that's not it. Though I must say, that sounds like it was amusing." >"Heh, yeah... good times." >The demon yawns and closes her book. >"Ahh... I believe I shall turn in for the night. Mister Mous, I will wake you when the time comes for your first assignment. Please, make yourself comfortable. I have taken the liberty of locking some doors, but you otherwise have free roam of my quarters. Sleep well... wouldn't want you to doze off in the midst of your work tomorrow, hmhm." >She strolls off towards the master bedroom, leaving you alone in the study. >Well, may as well start getting ready for bed. >But first... you walk around and tidy up a bit. Judge Werner's quarters are pretty clean already, but you just give the place an extra bit of polish. >Maybe it'll get you on her good side, who knows...? >Satisfied, you head off to your, uhh, "bedroom." >On the bed, a small set of crimson pajamas rests, folded up neatly. They're a little tight, but fit you well enough, you suppose. >You lay down and reflect on today's events. >You think about the demonic crowd, heckling you at the trial. You think about the sham trial itself. You think about how to get revenge. >But mostly, your thoughts focus on the judge herself. >Her shadowy motives... what she's charged you with... what she has in store for you... >...what those melons look like under that suit... >...wait. >You shake your head a few times, but the intrusive thought lingers stubbornly. >You slowly doze off with your head full of freeze-frames of her colossal bust... >...and those soul-piercing green eyes. >"...ous. Mister Mous, wake up. Wake up, I say!" >You jerk awake at the sound of the judge's low voice. Those green eyes are staring down at you as she affords herself a tiny smile. >"Ah, good. I had rather thought for a moment that the heat had claimed you. Wouldn't be the first time, hmhm." >"Whuh... what time is it?" >Judge Werner casts her gaze over at the grandfather clock. >"10 AM. Is it too early for you, Mister Mous? Hm, you shouldn't have done the crime if you aren't prepared to take the time, so to speak." >"No, I'm... I'm good. Just... do you have any coffee...?" >"Mm? I do, yes. Personally, I'm not very fond of it, but by all means, help yourself." >She leads you to a bag of what appears to be bright red instant coffee powder. >You make yourself a pot the usual way. The drink is an ominous, almost bloody red, and smells of a tire fire. >You tentatively take a sip... >...oh. >It's actually... perfect? You've always liked your coffee strong, and you'll be damned if this stuff isn't the strongest cup of joe you've ever had. >You feel completely energized and ready for the day. >Judge Werner quietly makes herself a cup of tea, sipping it demurely and eyeing you with a frown. >"Do hurry. I do not have all day to wait on you..." >You nod, down the rest of the piping-hot coffee, and get dressed. When you return, she's just finishing up her tea. >"So, where are we going today?" >"We are going to take to the streets of the Underworld. I'd like to get you a little more acclimated to the area, so that I will not have to guide you around during tasks." >"Ah, alright then." >"If you're quite finished, we'll depart at once." >"Ready when you are." >She nods and snaps her fingers with a smirk. >A massive, pitch-black set of handcuffs appears, one cuff around your waist, one around hers. >You only have about 10 feet of leeway. >"Just so you aren't tempted to flee. Hmhmhm." >With that, she leads the way out of the courthouse and onto the city streets. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=84ANGsQS_7w] >The Underworld is a sprawling, melancholy metropolis. >Black and grey buildings tower above you, stretching towards a dark expanse you feel MUST be the roof of some massive cave. >Pits of grey fire lend the place a light not unlike noir films of old. Filthy black smoke rises up from the pits, carrying an air of sadness, but no odor. >The streets are barren, not a soul around except you and the judge. >Inky black "rain" falls from nowhere, the liquid feeling uncomfortably warm even in the stifling heat. >Judge Werner looks down at you, a solemn frown on her face. >"Welcome to the Underworld proper, Mister Mous. Perhaps calling this Hell was a bit inaccurate... my courthouse is simply located in a DISTRICT known as Hell. You understand the confusion, naturally... are there any questions? Preferences as to where we should begin?" >"So, wait: is this not ACTUALLY Hell? Like, fire and brimstone afterlife for the damned?" >"It is, yes. Perhaps the issue lies in the nature of the Underworld. You see, we demons live in a very, VERY vast realm. Within it are countless districts, each recognized by a different subset of you mortals above us. Your, ahem, fire and brimstone Hell does not exist in such a form. Rather, it is what you see here and now... one of many districts of a colossal city." >"So, is this still an afterlife, or..." >"Yes, for some mortals. The Underworld is also home to many supernatural beings, such as yours truly." >"Huh..." >"Perhaps the most succint way to explain it would be... imagine a city that incorporates every mortal culture's concept of the Underworld. That, Mister Mous, is the true nature of this land." >"I... I see. Well, uh, as for the tour, where do you plan to have me work the most? We should probably start there." >"Ah. I have many assignments in mind... perhaps a good starting point would be simple pest control." >"Pest control...?" >"Indeed. See, the streets of the Underworld have been suffering a... vermin issue. It was reported to be traced to an alleyway near Hell's police station. I shall show you to the station, then leave you to handle the task yourself. I have business with Chief Weiler anyhow." >"Wait, aren't I supposed to be under your supervision?" >"Oh, you shall be. Worry not, hmhm." >The two of you walk down the barren streets until you reach a dilapidated police station. Judge Werner nods, snaps, and heads inside as your cuff vanishes. >You swear you see her eyes in your peripheral vision... >A dark shadow skitters down the nearby alleyway... >You begin looking around for anything that could be used as a bludgeon. Hell's vermin are probably bigger than what you're used to. >You see a length of lead pipe laying forlornly in a gutter, but upon going for it, feel something unwelcome: >It feels as if the judge's clawed hands are tightly clamped onto your shoulders, dragging you back towards the police station. >You sigh and rub your temples, settling for a broomstick leaned against a nearby building. >You step into the alley, hearing a quiet skittering sound from behind a few empty trash cans. >Raising your makeshift weapon high, you step forward, passing the cans. In a flash, a dark blur flies past, claws slicing your broomstick clean in two. >The figure hisses loudly. >Undeterred, you blindly swing the top half of the broom like a baseball bat. You feel it strike flesh as the blurred figure is knocked roughly against the brick exterior of the police station. >Another hiss escapes the vermin, prompting you to swing again. >This time, there's a loud OOF, followed by a moan of pain. >A raspy, high-pitched voice speaks up. >"Hisss, E-Elma sssurrenderss! Ssssstop!" >Baffled, you blink a few times and take in what's before you. >Leaning against the building, obviously frightened, is a small anthro woman of indeterminate species. Her fur is incredibly puffy and matted, affording her an appearance not unlike a ball of shag carpeting that's been rolled in soot. >A vaguely ratlike tail emerges from within the puffy mass, and two luminous yellow eyes glint, sheer terror evident in them. >You immediately drop your weapon. >"Oh my goodness; I'm sorry, miss. Are you okay?" >"Hissss... Elma issss okay, but mortal knock the wind out of her..." >"I'm sorry, I thought you were attacking me." >"Wasssss." >"Huh?" >"Wasss attacking. Mortal come to evict, chassssse away, k-kill." >"...are YOU the infestation I was told about?" >"Yess... Elma isssss hellpesssst." >"Hellpest?" >The creature nods, rubbing her head sadly. >"Yesss. Hellpesst. Hated, reviled, dissssgussting Hellpessst..." >"...are you... alone?" >"HISSSSS... n-no. Elma hassss... othersss... with her." >"Others?" >"Hisss... too many quessstionssss." >"Okay, okay..." >She sighs deeply. >"...Elma will find a new home... polisssse plasse no good." >"Why were you here, anyway?" >"...Elma needsssss a home. Alley plasse workssss..." >"You need a home?" >"Mmph." >Elma sort of... retreats into her fluff a little. >You instinctively move in for a hug, but stop yourself when Elma's eyes widen in fear. >"Sorry. I know I hit you, but... I won't hurt you again. In fact, I wanna help, if there's anything I can do." >The "hellpest" stares, hissing quietly, but eventually seems to relax slightly. >"...mortal have home for Elma...?" >"I... I WOULD take you home, but I can't leave Hell." >"...mortal in trouble?" >"Yeah, I'm afraid so." >"Elma underssstandssss... but, c-can Elma... sstay with mortal in Hell?" >"I, uh... I'd have to ask permission." >"Mmph. Elma will wait." >The strange woman sits down, eyes watching you with hope shimmering in them. >You take a deep breath and enter the police station. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BVP65Rg8myE] >Unlike the judge's pristine quarters, the station is in complete disarray. >Muscular Hellhounds clad in black uniforms lounge about, sinister red eyes following your every move. >Magazines, open case files, donuts, coffee mugs, practically every kind of clutter you can imagine... it's all strewn around the place chaotically. >A particularly rough-looking female officer eyes you up and chuckles deeply. >"Lookin' for your babysitter, huh? You'll want the chief's office, little man. Down the hall, can't miss it." >You mutter a thanks and rush off, gently knocking on the massive wood door. >A booming voice immediately answers. >"YEAH, COME ON IN." >You gulp and step inside. >It's easily twice as hot in here as it was in the rest of the station. The chief's office is absolutely massive, and in an even more chaotic state than the room you just exited. >Judge Werner turns in her chair, raising an eyebrow at you. Across a massive desk from her sits a gigantic Cerberus woman, her heavily muscled physique putting intense strain on her uniform. >The chief focuses three pairs of piercing red eyes on you, then looks at the judge, visibly confused. >"Izzat your Class A?" >"Indeed." >"...he don't LOOK like a Class A, Liz..." >The kangaroo clears her throat sharply, and the chief winces. >"Err, right, right." >The judge stands and walks over to you, looking expectant. >"Well, Mister Mous, how goes your first task? I assume you must have either completed it or failed miserably considering you barged into a meeting uninvited." >"Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt. I just needed to talk to you about the assignment." >"Mm? I felt I was rather clear in my instruction." >"Yeah, but... you didn't say that the 'vermin' you were sending me after was a PERSON." >"I had rather thought that detail would be insignificant. My apologies." >"Judge Werner, I may be under your supervision, but I'm no hitman. I'm not gonna kill or hurt a sentient being just because you said so." >A wave of heat blasts your face as the judge narrows her eyes. >"...are you threatening insubordination, Mister Mous...?" >"Maybe I am." >The kangaroo removes her glasses, cleaning them before putting them back on. >"...what were your other issues with the assignment?" >"Well, the Hellpest, Elma, asked if I had a place for her to stay, and I was wondering if you could-" >"Absolutely not. No. I will take no responsibility for vermin." >"So then what? What is it you actually want me to do?" >"...Mister Mous. Do you feel that this Hellpest needs your help?" >"Yes, yes I do." >Judge Werner stares, her eyes piercing your soul in silence. A small frown spreads across her face. >"...very well. Your assignment was to clear the alley of its infestation. Taking the pest in DOES complete that objective. You may... you may bring her to my quarters. BUT HEED THIS. I will provide no help in the care of this vermin. She will be your sole responsibility, a responsibility concurrent to your community service duties. Am I making myself CLEAR?" >"Yes, your honor. Thank you." >Her ear twitches a few times, but she says nothing else. >The colossal police chief lets off a nervous chuckle. >"Well, uhhh... this is awful tense. Why don't we all jus' sit down for a sec? Y'like coffee, uhh, whatsyername?" >The judge reclaims her seat, sighing impatiently. You sit in a small, wooden chair. >"It's Anon, and yes ma'am, I love the stuff." >She nods and smiles with all three heads, handing over a comically large mug. >"Hope ya like it, I brew it good and STRONG! The way it's supposed to be. ...oh yeah, uh, name's Cerbera. Chief Cerbera. And before ya say it, yeah. My parents sucked at names. Heh." >"Nice to meet you. ...say, you said I didn't look like a Class A offender... what did you mean?" >Cerbera's heads exchange glances, then look at Judge Werner. The roo shakes her head severely, so the giant canine shrugs helplessly. >"Sorry, mac. Can't go into detail. My hands are tied." >"...do you mind if I take this outside, Chief? I should really go check on my new friend." >Cerbera smiles and waves you off. >"Go on ahead, mac. Thanks for takin' care of, uhh... Elma, you said? That's real sweet of you. If ya can't bring my mug back, don't sweat it, alright? I'll get it back from Li- errr, Judge Werner. Ahem." >You thank the towering chief and head outside, gingerly sipping the smoking hot coffee. Elma is waiting exactly where you left her, little tears in her eyes. >"What's wrong?" >"T-tried to climb polissse building to hear mortal talk to big ssssserberusss... Elma fell and hit her head." >Sure enough, a small bump is visible atop her crown. >"Are you alright?" >"Elma will heal... b-but it hurt..." >"I'm sorry you're hurting, but I have some good news: I have a home for you." >Her eyes widen, her jaw drops. >"M... mortal hassssssss...! Mortal hass home for Elma?!" >"Yep!" >The woman leaps up and wraps her arms around you. It's only now that you realize two things: she's not really THAT much shorter than you, but... she's much smaller than her fluff would suggest. >Elma rubs her cheeks against your chin, and the coarse fur almost immediately irritates your skin. >She coos happily, her tail wagging about madly. >"Mortal sssssssso nisssse. Thankss, mortal." >She's... oddly adorable. Even though your skin is red as a beet where her fur rubbed against it... >Elma eyes the massive mug of coffee with wonderment. >"Mortal got beanjuissse?" >"Huh? Oh, yeah, the police chief gave it to me." >"Ohhh, big ssserberuss. Big sserberussss isss nissssse too. B-but ssometimess mean..." >"Mean?" >"Ran Elma off onsssse." >"Oh..." >Elma sniffs the air a few times, tilting her head inquisitively. >"...can Elma try? Beanjuissse been around sssinsse Elma wasss sssmall, but Elma never tried it." >"Sure! Be careful, though, it's hot." >Your new friend heartily gulps down the entire remainder of the mug, sighing in contentment and rubbing her belly. >"Mmmph... good~" >"Glad you liked it. Uhh, hey, do you mind coming in with me so I can give this mug back?" >The Hellpest nods eagerly, and the two of you head into the Chief's office. >Once you're there, Judge Werner looks at Elma silently, a very faint smile on her lips. Chief Cerbera is more open with her grins. >"Oh, hi there! You must be Elma?" >"Yesss..." >The Hellpest's fluff seems to get more voluminous as fear dawns on her face again. >The Cerberus frowns a little. >"Oh, it's okay, sweetie, you don't have to be scared." >Elma cautiously relaxes a little, scooting closer to you. Her fur brushes your hand, immediately making it itch and burn. >"So, uhhh... can one of you tell me more about Hellpests like Elma?" >Both Cerbera and the judge nod; the chief speaks first. >"Well, they're a very old species... kinda problematic at times, (no offense meant, Elma), and they live in every part of the Underworld." >"Indeed. They are also very hardy creatures, which is why I had little concern if you attacked her or not." >Elma hisses, again seeming to puff up. >"...E-Elma tough, yesss... but sssstill hurtss." >The judge frowns. >"Mm. I... apologize. Are you alright?" >"...y-yesss..." >"Wonderful." >With that, Judge Werner stands and bows to the chief. >"I believe it's time I took my charge... and his new... friend back to my quarters. Have a nice afternoon, Cerbera." >"Take care, judge. Ey, Anon: if you need somethin' while you're working in the neighborhood, don't be afraid to swing by, alright?" >"Thank you." >The Cerberus nods and waves as Judge Werner leads you and Elma back to the courthouse. >The moment you set foot in the judge's home, she stretches and takes a seat by the fire. Elma looks absolutely startstruck by her surroundings. >"Thisssss Elma'ss home...?" >"Yep, for the time being." >"Sssso pretty..." >The judge chuckles quietly. >"Mister Mous, though I shan't assist you in the care of your acquaintance, I do ask that you exercise some caution in allowing her into the kitchen. Her kind tend to be rather gluttonous. Additionally, my bedroom is off limits. Beyond that, I have no restrictions." >"Thank you. Elma, would you like to get cleaned up?" >"Ummmm... Elma will clean later." >"Well, okay then. Are you hungry? I can grab something from the kitchen." >"Umm... doessss mortal have uhhhh... Elma forgetsss the name... rocky bread thingsssss, hot?" >"Uhh..." >The judge says nothing, merely looking on with a smug smile. >"...I think I know what you mean. Be right back." >You head into the kitchen and grab one of those strange biscuits you ate last night. When you return, Elma practically eats it out of the palm of your hand. >"Mmm... good..." >She sighs in contentment, a tiny gout of grey fire escaping her mouth. You grab a few more, and she wolfs them down in seconds. >She again coos happily as she gently rubs her stomach, beaming. >"Thankss, mortal. Elma isssss full now." >"Glad to hear it. ...say Elma, what can you tell me about yourself?" >"Hmm? Oh. Elma issss Hellpesst." >"Right, but what IS a Hellpest?" >"Uhh... Hellpessstssss eat, hide in dark plassessss, make people itch... bite people... make messsssess... d-dig holesss... m-m-multiply..." >She trails off, slowly puffing her fur out with a look of fear on her face. >"...m-mortal want to kick Elma out now, right? Hellpesstssss iss pesssstss..." >"No, no. I'm not gonna kick you out." >"R-really...?" >"Really. I just wanted to ask about your kind. I'm new to this... Underworld business. Hellpests and all." >The ratlike demon lets off a little tittering snicker as she relaxes a little. >"Mortalssssssss alwaysss new to thissss, heehee." >"I guess that's true, heh." >"Elma can help mortal learn about Underworld. But sssslow... Elma not sso good with the word thingssss." >"That's fine. I'm patient, and I'm more worried about helping you than anything." >"Th-thankssssss... mortal, why sssso nissse?" >"I just want to do the right thing." >"But... but... too nisse to be in trouble?" >"Well... Judge Werner disagrees there." >"Mmph." >She buries you in an itchy hug, smiling warmly. >"Sssstill nissse, no matter what judge ssay." >Your mind races for a moment as you endure the hug... >Why YOU? If Werner wanted a mortal to do her chores, why pick you? >Did you actually do anything or not? >Or... does she just want a roommate? Or... a p-pet? >Either way, you need to solve this mystery. Otherwise, who knows how long you'll be down here...? >Elma pulls away from you, looking sheepish when she sees your angry red skin. >"Oopssss... let Elma fickssssss." >Before you can say anything, the Hellpest gently licks your arms and face. The itching and burning intensify wildly for a few seconds, then vanish entirely. >"Better?" >"Y-yeah, thanks." >"Geez... is that like, a self-defense thing?" >"What, Elma'sss itching? Jusssst part of a Hellpesst." >"Right, right... I wonder..." >You head over to the bookshelf and pull down the judge's copy of Encyclopedia Demonica. It isn't too hard to find Hellpests within... >HELLPEST >Alternative names include Aggravation, Welt-Maker, Greater Gremlin >Hellpests are an ancient species of Lesser Demon, originally borne from the fires of the Circle of Gluttony broiling the eggs of a mother Gremlin. These beings have taxonomy superficially similar to several mortal vermin, including rats, raccoons, armadillos, and even some insects. Being demons, these resemblances are utterly meaningless. >Hellpests are born to be pests. They devour far more than a being of their stature logically should. The very follicles of their hair aggravate the skin. They burrow holes into even obsidian. They multiply like mortal rabbits. Their bite is venomous, causing vomiting, fatigue, and weeping sores. They can slip into any opening, no matter how small. >When frightened, a Hellpest will puff their irritating fur up, protecting their bodies. This is not wholly necessary, as their lean forms are remarkably durable. >They are widely treated with disdain by other demonic species, but not by all. Hellhounds are typically sympathetic, if not outright fond of Hellpests. Succubi and Incubi in particular almost universally loathe Hellpests. >If one wishes to care for a Hellpest, they will find a loyal, highly affectionate companion. Hellpests are not particularly intelligent as a race, but matriarchs of Hellpest mischiefs typically hold centuries of wisdom borne of experience and the rearing of thousands of young. It is also known that their saliva, and in fact ALL their bodily fluids, will relieve the irritating effects of their fur. Be warned, however, that the irritation will intensify before it goes away. >What a... thorough book. >You close the encyclopedia, turning to see Elma standing slackjawed behind you. >"Wow... book knowsss lotss about Hellpessssstss." >"Heh, yeah, it does. Do you have a mischief, Elma? Or are you a loner?" >She looks away for a moment, as if thinking, then nods before responding. >"Yessss and no. Elma HAD misssschief. But new leader came. Elma wasssss sso proud. Went to make new missssschief..." >"Oh, I see." >"Ssssshould have missschief ssoon..." >"Soon?" >"Yesssss." >The Hellpest takes her hands and gently smooths her fluff down on her front, revealing a noticeably swollen midsection. She beams before moving her hands, letting the fur spring back into place. >"Elma'ssss otherssss will be here sssoon... ssso ecksssited!" >"Wait, you're... pregnant?" >"Yesss. Elma will lay eggssss sssoon. Only weeksss." >"...have you had kids before?" >The demon's eyes light up proudly. >"Elma hassss raisssed hundredss of thoussssandssssss of children. Countlessssss." >"..." >She chuckles a little. >"Mortal sssseem ssssurprissed." >"Y-yeah, I just... how many are you..." >"Heehee... Elma thinkssss... 6 eggsss? Feelsssss like sssssicksss." >"Oh, 6 kids, huh? Congrats." >"No, no. 6 EGGSSSSS. Eggssss hasss more than one Hellpessssst in, ssssilly mortal." >"...o-oh. How many are IN an egg?" >"Twenty to a hundred." >"......o-oh. Congratulations..." >"Thankssss, mortal~" >You look over the demon's shoulder to see if the judge heard. If her smug grin is any indication, she did. >"Err, Judge Werner, can Elma's children stay too?" >"Hmhm. If they are born here, they too will be your responsibility. I shan't make any effort to help you and your friend raise 600 Hellpests. But... I won't stop her from birthing them here. Of course, if you would prefer to seek alternate boarding for Miss Elma and her future mischief, feel free." >That was... less than helpful. >"Mister Mous, I will say, however, that you do not have the luxury of house hunting just yet. You are still on probation, and are not to leave my quarters without my accompaniment. I will lift this restriction when you earn my trust." >"...then... I think it may be best if Elma and her kids... found somewhere else to live. I don't know enough about her kind to help raise her kids. I don't know enough about ANYTHING down here..." >The judge raises an eyebrow. >"Mm. Mister Mous. Do you truly wish to help Miss Elma?" >"Yes, absolutely." >"Do you REALLY think you can find any demon willing to take in 121 to 601 Hellpests?" >"...I..." >"Hellpests, need I remind you, are widely reviled in the Underworld." >"I know... I know." >"Were you not suspicious that Miss Elma was with children?" >"...no..." >"I sensed it almost immediately." >To your amazement, the judge actually smiles sympathetically. >"Mister Mous... your companion may lay her clutch in my cellar. It is plenty spacious, and I rarely use it for anything more than storing old legal documents." >"...w-what?" >"I shan't provide any aid in actually caring for this mischief... but... it warms my heart to see a mortal actually care that much about the wellbeing of a demonic entity. I daresay... if you bring that level of care with you throughout the remainder of your sentence, prosperity will come to you." >Elma blinks a few times, tears in her eyes. >"J-Judge gonna let Elma ssssstay?" >"Indeed, Miss Elma. And congratulations on your pregnancy." >The smaller demon practically explodes into tears of joy, wrapping her arms around you tightly. >It's only now that you feel her taut belly pressing against you... >...despite the burning you already feel from her wrapping her arms around you, you return Elma's gesture, hugging her gently. >As your arms sink into her voluminous fur, it feels as though your skin is exploding. But... she's so happy. >The demon pulls herself even closer to you, her stomach pressing even tighter against you, to the point you step back out of concern for her unborn clutch. >She eventually releases you, yawning. >"Mmf... Elma go sssssleep now..." >The Judge gently looks up from her book, smiling faintly. >"You'll be sharing Mister Mous's quarters, Miss Elma. That door there." >"Thanksssssssss... nighty-night..." >The Hellpest shuffles off towards the small bedroom, stopping at the door. Rather than open it, she rather disturbingly seems to... flatten, squeezing under the door. You hear her flop onto the mattress with a contented sigh moments later. >Lizbeth chuckles warmly, returning to her reading. >You take a seat opposite the demoness, prompting her to glance your way. >"...Judge Werner... thanks." >She looks momentarily stunned. >"Hm? Whatever for...?" >"For letting Elma stay. That was very kind of you." >"Mm." >She closes her book gently, marking her place, then stands. She stretches, then walks over to the bookshelf, carefully placing her reading material back in the proper place. With a nod, the Judge turns to you. >"...Mister Mous, it was an honor to help a demon in such dire need. I must commend your determination in procuring a home for Miss Elma and her mischief. A lesser man would have banished her, or... worse." >"...was this... a test?" >"Goodness, no. Merely the first of many tasks I have for you. That being said, your exemplary handling of this scenario MAY influence the duration of your sentence..." >Lizbeth's smirk grows dark as you feel a blast of heat across your face. >"MAY." >"I... thanks." >"Mm. I do have to point out one thing, however. Mister Mous, you assaulted a pregnant woman." >"...oh God. I-I did." >Immense guilt immediately washes over you. The kangaroo paces over, a malevolent smile on her face as she places a clawed hand on your shoulder and squeezes. >"I can tell your conscience is tormenting you... but that alone is not sufficient punishment." >To your absolute shock, she simply pats your shoulder and walks off. >"...w-wait, aren't you gonna..." >"Mm? Dole out punishment? Why, yes. I have your next assignment lined up, and I believe that having you perform it the... old-fashioned way is ample punishment, hmhmhm." >Oh shit. >"O-okay, uh... what is it?" >Her smile widens immensely. >Once your arms are laden with easily ten boxes stuffed absolutely full of legal documents, Lizbeth all but shoves you out of the courthouse and onto the street. The weight is unbearable. Your bones feel ready to snap, your muscles ready to tear. >The Judge smirks at the sweat running down your forehead. >"Take those to the firm on Luciferis Boulevard. You cannot miss it." >"...aren't you gonna be supervising to make sure I don't run for it?" >"Under normal circumstances, I would. However, I must preside over a hearing in 5 minutes. I have ways of ensuring you do not escape, hmhmhm." >The judge patronizingly pats your head and walks away, gently swaying her hips. >Bah. Bitch didn't even give you directions first... >You mutter a few curses, stopping when you feel as though a pair of intense eyes are glaring at the back of your head. Intense heat bristles against the back of your neck. >Sigh. >You shake your head and begin walking, slowly. That warm, black rain continues to fall, though you don't feel wet. >A few nondescript demons meander around, silently. A tiny, almost cartoonish, red-skinned imp passes you, coming to an abrupt stop when his eyes dial in on the boxes you're carrying. >"Hey, hey; Where ya off to with that kinda payload?" >"Oh, uh, Luciferis Boulevard, apparently." >"Ohhhh. My cousin's aunt's stepdad's math teacher's grandpa's ex-dentist's brother's kid lives there!" >"Huh. Uhhh... can you tell me how to get there...?" >"I sure can!" >The imp stands silently, grinning at you wildly. >"...uhh... aren't you gonna.. tell me?" >"Nah! I said I CAN, not that I will! Nyahahahah!" >Pulling a tiny pitchfork from nowhere, the minuscule demon prods you right in the backside before dashing off. >"BYE, DUMBASS!" >Your ass burns from the pitchfork jab, but you can't really do anything about it with your arms full... >Fuck. >Growling more obscenities under your breath, you walk forwards, stopping when you slam into something. >You hear a loud OOF and the sound of someone falling to the ground hard. >"Shit, sorry! Are you alright?" >There's a quiet groan of pain, then a brisk female voice speaks up. >"I reckon so, Joe, but can ya give a lady a hand?" >You set your boxes down and turn to the fallen woman. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eaAd6BcQbP8] >The black-furred goat woman is clad in an outdated, but fashionable blue and white ensemble. A blue bowtie contrasts the white undershirt beneath her suit. >Long, extremely dark blue hair cascades down her back and face, obscuring one eye entirely. The eye you can see has navy blue sclerae and white irises; her pupils are typical for a goat: horizontal slits. >Silver horns spiral up alongside her ears, easily measuring a foot or so apiece. >The woman grimaces, showing a mouthful of fangs, including one silver tooth. >She clutches a long, black cane with a spherical ornament on top of it; the navy blue orb bears white and black marbling. >You help the goat to her feet, and she rubs her back for a moment before abruptly smiling and extending a hand. >"Thanks, fella! Some days the ol' gams just don't wanna play hardball, ya know?" >You blink a few times as her voice actually registers; it almost sounds like she's speaking through an old, tinny radio. >You also take in more of her appearance. She's easily as tall as Lizbeth, taller with the horns, but more modestly curved. You glance down to see strange hooves that almost resemble some form of... built-in heels? >The woman blinks expectantly, so you shake her hand. Her grip is firm, almost painfully so. >"Ford, Valerie Ford; a pleasure to meet ya." >"Uhhh... Mous, A-" >Valerie's eye widens excitedly. >"THE Anon E. Mous? What are the odds? Why, I just saw you on the ol' picture show! You're the poor shmuck that Ol' Ironside's got under her thumb, eh? I wager you musta done something REAL juicy to get her attention, huh?" >"Well, uh..." >"Aww, c'mon, you can level with me! I wouldn't tell a soul." >"...to be honest, I don't know WHY I'm here." >The goat's excited expression mellows into one of sympathy. >"Aw, horsefeathers. I shoulda known. You mortal saps ain't in the know, y'know." >"Meaning...?" >She laughs, not maliciously, but out of genuine mirth. >"Don't worry your pretty little head about it, ya pip." >Valerie stretches, again rubbing the base of her spine. >"You sure you're okay, ma'am?" >"Sheesh, you ain't gotta call me ma'am, ya rube. Valerie's fine, or even just Val. Just cause I've got my gladrags on don't mean you gotta be so formal!" >"Uhhh, okay, Val... are you okay?" >"I'm swell, thanks. Just a bit stiff, y'know. Meheh, that'll happen when you spend your days behind a desk." >"I feel your pain..." >She glances over at the boxes with a derisive snort. >"Where ya hauling that malarkey off to, anyhow?" >"Uh, Luciferis Boulevard." >"Lay off, that's where I'm headin'!" >"Really? Do you mind if I tag along?" >"Course not, fella! Let's shake a leg, my lunch break was supposed to be over about, oh, six hours ago, meheh!"